


Imperfections of Our Constellations

by chrissyeccly (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Jock!Dean, M/M, punk!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:17:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/chrissyeccly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is an 11th grade jock at Lawrence High School, and his last goal of the semester is to get through his English class with a passing grade. However, his last obstacle is the heavily weighted, 25% of his quarterly grade, super important partner project. When he finds out he's been paired with Castiel Novak, that one punk kid that wears perpetual leather and spikes for fun, he's unimpressed. When he discovers that he has to act out a romance scene with the guy? For a grade? There's absolutely no way he'll ever change his mind about that. Right? Right??</p>
            </blockquote>





	Imperfections of Our Constellations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Slythstiel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slythstiel/gifts).



> Hello, author here! I just wanted to say that this was really fun to write, and that as this universe progresses, I hope you enjoy it! Thanks!

The day was Monday, December first, the new month signifying the end of Thanksgiving break and a reluctant return to school for all the students of Lawrence High. Of course Ms. Kaufman, the English 11 teacher, just _had_ to welcome back her lethargic morning class with a new project, and at 7:30 AM, no less.

 _No thanks._ Dean Winchester wasn’t even trying to pay attention to the words falling out of his teacher’s mouth for at _least_ the first five minutes of class. He attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes with the sleeves of his varsity jacket, but it didn't do much to help the manner. The new project’s rubric dropping down onto his desk brought him to full alertness, and snapping his head up, he shot a smile to his teacher in thanks for handing him out the sheet. Dean’s moral code aimed to make others smile, and when Ms. K beamed surprisedly back in response, it almost made the horrid timing of this assignment worth it. Almost.

“I think you guys will enjoy this one,” Ms. K started. “Since it’s going to be your last project of the semester, from me at least, I’m going to try and make it fun. Sound good?” Skeptical looks shot around the room, but the teacher continued nevertheless. “You should look over your rubrics beforehand if you want to know exactly what I’m grading you on, but I’m still going to explain it in class today just for clarification. But you know, reading the rubric thoroughly never hurts,” she commented offhandedly, because honestly, who even reads the rubric completely before the teacher explains it? Sighing, she says, “Yes, it _is_ another partner project, but sadly for you, you've got no say about who your partner will be. Oh, don’t look so shocked.”

Pairs of eager friends and couples that had been eyeing each other hopefully upon her previous words sighed almost collectively. Dean rolled his eyes, because _how fucking cheesy is that? Overly attached snots can’t even spent five minutes apart._ Dean was still grumping about the fact that he didn't have anyone to date during the coming winter break. He had a valid reason though; this would be his first Christmas without having a romantic relationship since middle school. Though he despised that fact, he still tried to maintain a cheery attitude about his romantic life. “Tried” being the operative word. He resented his romantic loneliness, and seeing the couples jumping to each other's sides only managed to bring up his envy.

In all honesty, Dean was only aiming to speed past the remaining two weeks of school in a breeze and get at least a B average in all of his classes before the New Year. Unfortunately, this would require putting lots of effort into this project in particular, because Ms. K’s past assignments have never been ones to procrastinate on. And this was coming from the biggest procrastinator of the Winchester family. The most important part of the success plan was for whoever Dean’s partner would be to have the ability to work well with Dean, or else his barely passing English grade would be doomed.

"I'm putting your partner assignments on the screen now, so take a look," said Ms. K.

Looking up onto the board as the teacher turned on the projector, Dean scanned the list for whomever he would be paired with. The word document on the screen entitled “Period 1 December Project Partners” read:

April

| 

Naomi  
  
---|---  
  
Kevin

| 

Chuck  
  
Lili

| 

Victor  
  
Dean

| 

Castiel  
  
Marv

| 

Hannah  
  
Dorothy

| 

Charlie  
  
Lisa

| 

Meg  
  
Abby

| 

Crowley  
  
Cain

| 

Colette  
  
Alan

| 

Uriel  
  
Bela

| 

Ruby  
  
The class’s immediate reactions soon rang out quite vocally in various levels of agony at whoever their partner happened to be. Many people groaned aloud, but none were as disappointed as Dean. Out of all the possible people to have been paired with, Castiel Novak was pretty far down on his list. Not that Dean had a past with the dude. On the contrary- Dean and Castiel had never even exchanged words. The thing was- Castiel gave off an aura that practically exuded anarchy and the essence of the word “rebellion”. From what Dean knew, he always wore clothes in black and its variations, adorned with spikes on his collar and anywhere else the dress code would permit them. His hair was a deep black that was a stark contrast against the pale of his face, and needless to say, the kid was punk as hell.

With that standing, Castiel was miles away from Dean on the social spectrum. The eldest Winchester brother held a well-respected, popular, and powerful spot in the “jock” level of the high school food chain. He’d earned the position by playing football with the right people growing up, and due to his unusually gentle and diplomatic demeanor for a jock, he’d _also_ earned the nickname of “hippie” from his team. He didn’t give a shit though, because he knew they called him that with no bad intentions.

Dean and the other jocks never made excess contact with other groups unless the situation called for it being absolutely necessary. This counted as one of those times. Dean had never had real reason to interact with anyone so punk before, and this new opportunity wasn’t anything he was looking forward to.

Ms. Kaufman’s rapt voice took Dean out of his thoughts. “Now that you know who your partners are, I’m going to describe the bare bones of your project. On my desk are 11 envelopes, one for each group of two. Inside each of them is a random short passage that I’ve chosen from 11 individual stories and their different genres, respectively. Only two characters are present in each excerpt that I've selected, and this is where the fun part comes in!

“Your partner and yourself will act out and perform your piece, twice!” Dean could see the teacher visibly starting to rush through her words now, trying to get through the vital information before the class lost interest. The look on her face made it look more like she was fearing mutiny as she continued, “The first time, you both act it out as it's written, following the passage as closely as possible. Within reason, I mean.” She inhaled deeply and seemed to visibly regain her composure. “The second time is when you get to flex your creativity muscles! Heh. So, anyways, the second time, you’ll act out the same story, but rewritten in another genre. It will be performed accordingly with your changes, meanwhile keeping the dialogue, theme, and characters as similar as possible to the original. I’ll elaborate in a moment, but while I still have your attention, you should know that your options for this are twofold. You and your partner can either film them both and email them to me to be graded, or present both renditions live in class on the due date. Both ways work for me, but whatever works best for you and your partner.

“Actually, I take back what I said about elaborating on the specifics. I made those rubrics for your benefit, and the least you could do is actually _read them_. Okay, we've got about ten minutes left in class, so let’s utilize that time well. Locate your partners and look over the rubric together, and if possible, exchange contact information. Even though we’re going to be rewriting these in class over the next week, nobody’s going to be practicing or filming their project during our precious class time, so you’ll have to meet up somewhere else to do that. Once you get with your partner, I’ll be handing out your story packets randomly, and if you don’t like what you get, then too bad. Be creative. No switching. Now I think I've run my mouth enough. You have till next Friday to finish. Go.”

With that conclusion, the teens started scrambling to find their partners. Dean stood up along with them, but in the midst of the surprisingly loud crowd (only 22 people!), Castiel was nowhere to be seen. Dean didn't even know where the poor bastard sat in class, and he only hoped that his partner’s clothing spikes wouldn't impale anyone while he was looking for Dean.

Cain, one of Dean’s football teammates, smirked at him with an amused glint in his eyes as he passed. Dean, knowing this guy well, knew this smug look to be because of who his partner had ended up being: Cain had gotten paired with Colette, the girl he’d been ogling to date since their Freshman year. He mouthed something that looked like “gonna get lucky bro!”

Dean rolled his eyes and they landed on Castiel. Who was still sitting at his desk. Smart bastard hadn’t moved an inch from the cautious edge of his chair the whole damn time, probably knowing that the crowd would disperse eventually and that Dean would find him. Well, at least this proved that he wasn’t an idiot.

Approaching Castiel’s desk, he introduces himself. “Hey, I’m Dean,” he says casually, pulling over an empty seat and sliding it over to his partner’s desk.

“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel,” he says.

Dean was almost startled- the guy’s voice was much lower and gravelly than he’d been expecting, never having heard him speak before. His introduction was quiet too, almost reaching a point where it could be described as shy. Almost. Dean thought it was rather contradictory to the other teen’s style to be shy. Castiel’s outfits were always so attention grabbing, from what Dean had seen of him, and the effect was amplified with his very noticeable face. It could almost be called attractive.

Wait- did that sound gay? Hmm, moments that challenged his heterosexuality seemed to be growing more common these days. Really, he couldn’t bring himself to care, though- at least for the moment. Honestly, sexual orientation wasn’t a big concern, especially in this context. Before he had time to prompt a conversation with his partner, Ms. K appeared, dropping a thick orange packet labeled “Number 6” onto Castiel’s desk. As she walked away, she noted the number in her notebook, moving on to the next group over.

Dean picks up the packet. “May I?” He held his thumb at the opening flap and opened it promptly at Castiel’s small nod of affirmation. Upon seeing the title of their excerpt, he let out a “Fuck.”

Castiel narrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head a fraction, and instead of thinking about how unusually cute that was (in a manly way), Dean just hands over the packet. “I agree with your sentiment, Dean. Fuck.”

The title of their piece read “Imperfections of the Constellations,” the name of the somewhat new, teenage romance-with-cancer novel that had broken the hearts of many high school girls across the country since it had been released. A novel that Dean had never personally read himself, but had heard from his freshman brother Sam (who actually _had_ read it) that it was a tearjerker and that no, Dean, I’m not crying I just said that randomly, shut up. So yeah, teenage girls.

Castiel was probably saying fuck for the same reason as Dean, because what kind of guy wants to be paired with a guy to perform a _romance_ skit? How embarrassing! Dean just hoped that it wasn’t too sappy of a selection and that nobody on his team would ever know about this. He briefly considered going up to Ms. K to ask for a swap projects with another team, but he’d heard what she said earlier. He knew his teacher well enough to know that she kept her word; no point in trying to convince her to change her rule.

In his chair, Castiel shifted minutely in his seat as he skimmed through the several pages of paper in his hands, and- no- was that a blush rising to his cheeks? Dean found himself leaning closer to his partner across the desk, and when Castiel finally looked up, Dean was greeted with a pair of soft blue eyes, redolent of his own childhood, somehow. The blush on Castiel’s cheeks grew much more definite, and his breath hitched in his throat. Before Dean could ask if anything was wrong, Cas burst into a raucous round of wheezy coughs, and the previous blushing was all but forgotten.

At the first hack, Dean backed his head away, only then realizing how close he’d been studying Castiel’s face. Dean’s not normally this weird. The poor guy seemed to suffering from a cold. “Let me just get a tissue or somethi- oh my god!” Dean had stood up to get a tissue when Castiel’s coughing grew particularly intense, and he actually fell off his precarious spot on the edge of his seat onto the floor. Some classmates turned to look, but Dean ran over to him to help at once, his instinctual protective instincts unconsciously taking over for this dark haired boy, his focus only on Castiel.

He rushed over to his classmate, kneeling at the other side of the desk, and he’s glad to see that there seemed to be no immediate damage: Castiel had braced himself with his hand as he fell, and that had saved the rest of him from getting hurt. If nothing else, at least the accident had stopped his chain of wracking coughs. Dean sighed in relief and then offered a hand to his fallen partner. Castiel opened his clenched eyes when Dean tapped his knee, bringing him back to reality. His blush was still there, and Dean didn’t fail to notice that, or how endearing it was. Castiel seemed surprised that Dean was offering assistance, and took a moment staring at Dean’s outstretched hand before graciously accepting it and getting pulled up. If either of them held on to the other’s hand a bit longer than necessary before letting go, neither commented on it.

“Cas, are you okay? That was one hell of a coughing fit, and one hell of a fall. I can call you Cas, right?” Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and sat down at his seat only after Castiel was sitting down safely, this time taking care to ensure he was in the middle of his chair.

“Nobody’s ever called me that particular nickname before, but I think it works. Feel free to call me Cas in the future.” Cas’s blush still hadn’t disappeared, and it wasn’t fading much either. “As for that little accident, I’m perfectly fine. No need to worry about me, Dean. Now where were we with this project?”

Dean’s relief confirmed, he clears his throat before centering his attention on the project instead of a certain pair of cheeks that hadn’t stopped blushing. “I believe we were just past the title. I cannot _believe_ we got stuck with the most girly of all the passages, probably. God. What do you think?”

Looking down a bit ashamedly, Cas’s blush darkened as he mumbled “I’ve actually read the book and I think it was a fine read.” He rubbed the back of his neck in a move that was _not at all endearing, dammit!_

This was a decidedly _not_ punk way of acting, and Dean continued to be surprised by this boy every other minute. Not that he didn’t like Cas- he actually prefers a bit of sentimentality from his dates. Whoa! Where did that come from? Again, Dean pushed the thoughts of possible gayness to the back of his mind before responding, “Really? Wow, sorry dude. I didn’t mean to be offensive or anything, it’s just that the majority of that book’s target fans are chicks.” Dean clears his throat for the second time in this conversation. “Besides that, what part of the book is this from? I know that it’s a romance, but is the part we’ve been assigned have any in it?”

At Dean’s attempted apology at the presumed insult, Cas seemed to relax. “My apologies, Dean, but I don’t remember. It’s been a while since I’ve read this story, and I’ll have to read our selection again to bring back the context. You may want to read the book yourself if you want to act the part convincingly, if it’s not too much of a bruise on your ego.”

 _Wow. The guy recovered quickly._ “Is that sass I hear, mister?” Dean was glad his accidental offense had been forgiven, and was also grateful for the lightening of the atmosphere.

Cas raised an eyebrow at Dean, and the look, if not accompanied by context, would have been quite intimidating if not for Cas’s reddened cheeks and the friendly and mischievous spark in his eye. “Maybe it is sass that you heard, Dean. Did you think me incapable of it? Then again, I don’t think you heard sass at all,” Cas said, smiling now for the first time since he’d been talking with Dean. “I never said the word ‘sass’ until after it escaped your mouth. I never said the word, so no, you didn’t hear sass.”

Dean was wowed at Cas’s ability to make the mood happier, and at that moment, he decided that he quite liked his smile. He found himself wanting to see more of it. “Ah, so you’re not just smart, but a smartass too! A two-in-one package!”

The ever-present rosiness on Cas’s face stayed in place as he said, “I’m glad my partner is one of fine taste in humor. Ten out of ten would recommend.”

At the compliment, Dean choked on the joking retort he’d been prepared to throw back, a sudden heat that he hoped wasn’t his own blush rising up on his face. Cas stopped looking down at his knees and made eye contact with Dean, who started snickering. The comment was so ridiculous, he quickly lost his restraint. Snickering turned into chuckling, chuckling turned into giggling, and giggling turned into full out laughter. He didn’t really care that people started looking at him funny, because Castiel Novak had just made the most ridiculous, barely even funny joke, and he thought it was the best thing on earth.

The happiness of his laughter skyrocketed on seeing that Castiel was sporting his own respective grin, albeit a shy one from all the eyes on him from around the class. It wasn’t as wide as the one earlier, but it filed Dean with a bubbly feeling nevertheless, because _he was the one to bring this rare treasure to the other boy’s face._

It was only after his laughter had died down and the classroom returned to its average volume that Dean’s suppressed thoughts and feelings tentatively made an appearance. Cas was staring at him from across the desk with something resembling fondness in his eyes, and as Dean reciprocated the look, it was when the realization made its grand appearance.

Dean Winchester might just be falling for Castiel.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, but I don't think I'll be finishing this fic! If you're curious about what happens next, feel free to leave a comment and I'll post what I have of the next chapter, but if there's no interest, this'll be all, folks. Sorry about not keeping up! ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
